


Weston University

by itszapah, scrtlynnjj (Jenny074186)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - Sorority, College/University AU, Crack, F/M, Mystery, Parody, Pining, VinDee, but not really bc its in a dream, every genre possible i guess, idk - Freeform, its actually a well thought out story we promise, long fic, secret cult, updates? what updates, we're gonna trademark everything frat related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itszapah/pseuds/itszapah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny074186/pseuds/scrtlynnjj
Summary: Weston University is a prestigious institution of higher learning, home to many notable students and professors. However, for senior Vincent Phantomhive, it can be hard to keep up with his academics while he has such a busy social life and is burdened by his Watchdog work for President Victoria. With the presence of a hypnotizing cult in town as well as a blooming romance between him and a certain sorority girl, it can only lead to trouble...





	1. Dying

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! We thought it would be fun to show off Vincent's generation in a relatable modern college setting. Being that this is already an AU, we did make Weston University an American college, but this was so we could take advantage of having (and perhaps making fun of) facilities such as Greek Life, large sports games, etc. (and also because both of us are more familiar with the American education system in general).
> 
> Also, a few of the age gaps are shortened a little just to keep everyone within that 4 year time of getting a standard Bachelor's at college. Obviously the older ones are still older, but maybe not as much as in the manga. Again, since this isn't the 1800's, the canon age differences wouldn't necessarily work in this plot without being a little creepy.
> 
> This story was unbeta-ed, any mistakes made after going through it is all on us.
> 
> Keeping this in mind, we hope you enjoy the story!

“ _This_ coffin is one I specifically handcrafted for John F. Kennedy! He was a very _interesting_ corpse if I ever saw one myself!” A cackle. “You know, he was actually killed by-”

A male voice interrupted.  “Wasn’t JFK killed in the 1960’s?”

The Undertaker, master of anecdotes, halted his speech and turned towards the interrogator. The person was about twenty years old, dressed in preppy pastel clothes. He was seated amongst many other young men his age. “That he was! It was on November 22nd, 1963!” The Undertaker smiled, ominously nostalgic. “I remember the day perfectly.”

“Right, so wouldn’t that make you really old?”

The unnaturally pale funeral director tilted his head towards the persistent young adult, interlocking his bony fingers together. He kept his grin plastered onto his face. “That, or it just makes you really young! Too young to be drinking like you do at that bar across from my funeral parlor every weekend!”

There was an awkward silence at the accusation. The Undertaker seemed unfazed, however. “Any more questions like that and I’ll start charging you boys! I don’t give away information for free!”

The PowerPoint presentation on coffins continued undisturbed.  

Weston University, located in Westingham, had gotten into some trouble lately with its Greek Life. The student dean, Mr. Dean, was rather troubled by recent reported misbehavior of the Kappa Alpha fraternity. In an attempt to fix this, he had specially requested that the local undertaker come and give the boys a slap in the face about the consequences of making bad choices. Lucky for them, the local funeral parlor was run by one of the most eccentric men in the world. Tall and skinny, with white hair that covered his eyes fell down to his waist, the Undertaker was practically a skeleton with a wig! It didn’t help that he wore a pitch black robe. This only made his complexion more ghostly. Various lockets and beads hung off of it, each presumably holding some special and cryptic meaning.

“What are you, a priest?” one of the boys had asked when he first stepped foot into The Frat HouseTM. It was a Saturday, and the man had arrived bright and early. The Undertaker laughed for a good solid minute before answering.

“No, my boy, but I suppose I’m an expert in a couple of their fields,” he smirked, and held up the flash drive containing his presentation that he’d brought with him.

The dean, the Undertaker, and a few of The Frat BoysTM spent about ten minutes trying to get the computer to hook up to the projector. The Undertaker didn’t seem particularly up to date on modern technology. Still, once it finally worked, a picture of a rotting corpse inside of a coffin flashed on the wall. The boys, very vocal about this strange slide, were shushed by the dean and the Undertaker couldn’t seem to wipe the joy off his face at the sight of the body.  

“I’ve been told to inform you that if you don’t behave, this could you by next week!” he began. “Decomposition starts only minutes after you die. This is called autolysis, or self-digestion. Fascinating, isn’t it?” The man looked like a dog drooling over fresh meat. “First, the cells are deprived of oxygen. Then, enzymes begin to digest cell membranes and - “

Mr. Dean cleared his throat. “Um, sir, if you could move on to the rest of the presentation?”

“Of course, Mr. Dean...you should really let me teach a biology class here!” the Undertaker said. He continued to the next slide.

Vincent Phantomhive, a senior member of the fraternity, sat in the corner. He was used to the Undertaker’s shenanigans and rather amused by his Kappa Alpha brothers’ confusion. Unlike them, he’d already been forced to listen to this horrible, never-ending speech multiple times. It simply could be summarized by, “ _Make good choices or you’ll die. But, if you_ do _die, here’s some quality coffins to choose from for your funeral!_ ” It was an odd life, being close to the Undertaker.

Apart from that, Vincent was the president of their Kappa Alpha chapter. With his authority, he’d already been forced to hear an earful concerning the boys’ behavior from the dean himself. This discourse was embellished with vague insults and threats. Vincent had tuned most of it out. There were scarier men out there that he’d dealt with than the dean. Mr. Dean was just a balding man with a belly, a little too chubby to fit his wedding ring anymore, and probably going through some sort of midlife crisis. Typical.

“I’m bringing the local undertaker to talk to you boys personally this Saturday morning! And it’s going to be mandatory!” the dean had yelled. Vincent had to force himself not to laugh. Little did the dean know what an odd presentation that would be. Possibly effective, though.

Yes, judging by the looks of horror on his brothers’ faces, very effective.

Vincent had known that eccentric his whole life, being that the old man had been good friends with his mother for as long as he could remember. When he was fifteen (a year he preferred not to think about), Vincent ended up having to work very closely with the Undertaker. One would _think_ that spending so much time with somebody would help solve a lot of mysteries about them. But no. Vincent still thought the Undertaker was an old whack. He’d just learned not to question it.

As for the purpose of the speech itself, Vincent had his own dangers to worry about besides drinking and partying, and these perils were forced upon him by none other than President Victoria herself. In other words, the law wasn’t his concern. No cop was going to dare get him in trouble. As for the fraternity, the Phantomhive family had practically helped found Kappa Alpha! If one looked up the definition of “legend,” they would see Vincent’s face. Getting kicked out was not even an option.

The real threat here was death, but there was no way Vincent was getting killed.

The Undertaker’s speech became nothing more than a monotonous background noise. Vincent was thankful for cellular technology. Now would be a good time to check up on all the social media accounts. He was just about to comment on an Instagram picture when his phone alerted him of a text. It was from, as his caller ID said, “ _The Infamous Dee ;)_ ” Vincent hastened to open it.

**_Get off your damn phone._ **

Vincent bit his lip as to not start laughing. That only meant that Diedrich was on his phone as well, and Vincent didn’t hesitate to send that retort back.

**_You're on yours too?? And sorry but I’m bored to death._ **

Only a few seconds had passed by the time he felt his phone vibrate again.

 **_I’m only using it because you won’t pay attention, dumb ass._ ** **Somebody** **_has to keep you and your horrible puns in check._ **

Vincent now tasted blood from biting down so hard to keep himself from chuckling, yet he still managed to respond in record time. This virtual bickering continued for the rest of the Undertaker’s spiel.

Thirty minutes and what must have been thirty coffins later, the Undertaker finished and the dean officially adjourned the meeting. The boys dispersed quickly, wanting to resume their Saturday morning by going back to sleep. Once the room had majorly cleared, Undertaker shuffled up to Vincent.

“You weren’t even listening to my speech!” he pouted. “I even added some newer coffins to show you! I thought you’d be particularly interested in that diamond-studded one.” He smirked. “You know what you must do to compensate, Phantomhive.”

“You’re joking. Now?”

“No, no; _I’m_ not the one joking!”

Vincent sighed, “I’ve still seen that presentation too many times. Diamond-studded coffin or not, it’s all the same!” Knowing what he had to do, however, Vincent gave a furtive glance around and led the Undertaker to the nearest room out of sight, which happened to be a supply closet.  Not even seconds later, there were _sounds_ coming out from behind the door. The Undertaker stumbled from the closet disheveled and panting while Vincent looked as stunning as ever.

“Heeheehee, that was fantastic, Phantomhive! As satisfying as always!” Undertaker said, catching his breath.

“Right, well, after knowing you for so long, I’ve had plenty of practice,” Vincent responded.

Undertaker nodded. “Before I go, I want to talk to you first about something.” His demeanor suddenly got serious. Vincent raised an eyebrow, and the funeral director continued, “You know that coffin speech is particularly important for you.”

Vincent wanted to play it off as if he thought Undertaker was accusing him of simply partying too much, but Undertaker knew him too well. The boy looked around again to make sure nobody was there. By now the living room was empty. Chances were nobody would venture back until they knew the Undertaker was gone. “I’ve done this for years. My whole family has. I know what I’m doing.”

“You should be careful with what President Victoria expects from you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Vincent repeated, a little more darkly. It closed the conversation. “Now don’t you have some _actual_ dead people to attend to or something?”

Undertaker ignored Vincent’s whining. He cracked a smile again, though.

“I signed you up for ballroom dancing at the rec center,” the funeral director said.

“ _What the hell_ ?”

“You spend too much time worrying about the president’s issues! Now you your own issue to worry about!” Undertaker gave one of his standard laughs.

“I’m twenty-one years old. You can’t make me-”

“I’ve already told the instructor that you’ll be at next Wednesday’s lesson! She looks forward to seeing you! She knows the dean well, by the way. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation by not going, heeheehee...”

Before Vincent could even begin to argue the idea of such a ridiculous concept, Undertaker slunk out of the room. Vincent stood rooted in his spot a moment, grimacing a he pictured the standard scene from Beauty and the Beast where the beast would sweep Belle off her feet. (Of course, if anybody asked, he’d only seen the movie because Frances watched it. She’d preferred Mulan more, however.)

Diedrich’s voice broke his train of thoughts. He’d just walked back in, probably realizing that Vincent hadn’t come back upstairs. “Another _compensation_ ?” It was more of a statement than a question. Vincent gave him a hum of agreement.  _How many jokes do you have up your sleeve after all this time, anyways? It’s a bit ridiculous_. 

“And that’s not all,” Vincent grumbled. “The old geezer signed me up for _ballroom dancing_ next Wednesday. He wants me to diversify my life or something. Can you believe it?”

 _I wish I could go with you_ , was the first thing that popped up in Diedrich’s head, the longing present in those thoughts. He pushed this aside, however, somewhat embarrassed even though nobody could have heard it. So he simply remarked, in his usually snappy demeanor, “Actually, I can. You have fun with that.” He was madder at himself than Vincent, though.

Vincent put his hand on heart, pretending to be personally offended by Diedrich’s words, but his act was cut short when fellow member Alexis Midford came up.

“Hey, guys?”

Diedrich and Vincent turned around and saw the freshman walking towards them. He was an overly excited boy with optimism that was beyond either of the older members’ understanding. However, neither of them found him as a bother. His intentions were good.

“What is it, Alexis?” Vincent asked, switching to his “presidential” mindset. It was one he had to put away whenever he thought of Victoria, where he was completely submissive.

“You know how we’re supposed to join a certain amount of clubs for the frat obligations?” Alexis asked. Vincent nodded. “Does fencing club count?”

“Oh, my sister’s in that!” Vincent exclaimed. Even though he sucked at the sword, suddenly Vincent wished Undertaker had signed him up for fencing instead. It could at least be useful. “You should totally take a _stab_ at it!” Alexis laughed and Diedrich rolled his eyes. “Yes, it counts.”

“Great, thanks Vincent!” Alexis said. Diedrich waited until Alexis was out of sight before making one last remark.

“It’ll be a scream to try to see you try and act gentlemanly for a ballroom dance.”

Vincent’s lips tightened. “Just because you said it, I’m going to do it. Perfectly.”

And seeing Vincent’s look of determination, Diedrich knew it was true. And picturing the boy in dance clothes, he knew everyone would agree.

* * *

One of the best parts about Weston University, Rachel Durless thought to herself, was that it was located right next to the little historic city of Westingham. There were tons of cute and colorful boutique shops and restaurants, each with their own personality and history. The city was always lively with new faces and people to meet – the opportunities were endless! With the school year having just started the other week, Rachel thought this would be a good time to show her little freshman sister around and get her excited for it all.

“Can we go back now?” Ann muttered.

Rachel sighed. Her sister could be such a downer at times. She was wearing her usual outfit: baggy sweats and a hoodie. She had her hair braided, hood up, and eyes fixated on the ground. “What is it? Don’t you think it’s cute here?”

“Well, sure I do, and maybe some other time…” Ann said, wringing her hands together. “It’s just that...well...it’s so crowded, and I’m tired, and I need to study! You know, sis, pre-med’s a lot of work!”

Rachel nodded. “I know it is, Ann, but you have to enjoy yourself sometimes for God’s sake! You just got here - there's barely any work assigned yet!” They stopped in front of a coffee shop at the corner of the intersection across from the university campus. Rachel saw her little sister’s eyes glance over to it longingly. “You’re just a freshman. You won’t be doing surgeries any time soon!”

Ann frowned. “But I have to do good now in order to get into medical school. If they don’t take me there, then this was all for nothing! Besides, I can’t turn into one of _them_!” She pointed down the street, where the cityscape stopped and “The Greek Empire” began. Large mansions lined the street and proudly showcased various Greek letters, each representing a long and prideful history of brotherhood or sisterhood. People were more patriotic towards their Fraternity or Sorority than the actual country!

“ _I’m_ one of them,” Rachel said.

“That’s because you’re an extrovert. You _like_ parties,” Ann muttered, grimacing a little. “You’re good with all that dressing up and socializing, and…” She shook her head. “Never mind. You said we’d just look around and leave. We looked around. Let’s leave.”

Rachel sighed. “Okay, fine, I did say that, didn’t I? I’ll keep my word.” They waited for the cross sign to flash the “walk” symbol, and crossed the road. As soon as they set foot onto the land of studying, Ann appeared to be more at ease. This irked Rachel, but she didn’t point it out. She loved her sister, after all. She just wished Ann would love herself more.

“Hey, you know what I think would be great for you?” Rachel said. She'd stopped walking and was looking at a bulletin board outside by the sidewalk. Various posters and papers were stapled to it. 

Ann looked at Rachel. “And what would that be?”

“Ballroom dancing!” Rachel exclaimed. She excitedly pointed towards one of the advertisements. Ann stared blankly. “Doesn’t that sound fun? You’d get to wear a pretty dress and impress everyone!”

“I don’t care about the boys!” Ann said.

“I didn’t say boys, Ann. Besides, you undoubtedly care about connections! And something to put on your resume to show some diversity!”

Ann groaned. There was no way out of this. Rachel seemed so sweet, but if she had her mind set on something, there was no getting around it.

“I’m going to _die_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hoped you enjoyed the first chapter of this AU!


	2. Quickstep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and thank you for continuing to read our story! We hope you enjoy!

_My Dearest Vincent,_

_How are things at Weston University? College is such an exciting time of one’s life! Oh, to be young with a world of opportunity ahead of you! I remember my college days at Harvard quite fondly. Keep studying hard, but don’t hesitate to have some fun as well! It’s only natural for a young man of your age to want to find a lovely lady to be at his side..._

_I write to you today to inquire for your help with a rather delicate situation taking place in Westingham. Lately there has been a new organization regularly meeting in Town Hall. While it is acceptable to rent out rooms to various local groups, I have heard this one may be involved in possibly illegal activities._

_The organization is a nonprofit charity called Helping Hands, and they say their purpose is to aid the poor and underprivileged of the town through various fundraising events. I'd prefer no public investigation to be done, being that it would not seem good for the government to intervene in a group that has supposedly done so much to help the lower class. They have followed every legal requirement so there is no reason for the official Bureau of Investigation or police to get involved._

_Still, they are growing at a strangely fast pace and have already expanded to various cities. They have no social media to fuel this movement. One of my officers went there and said it had a strange aura to it, and that it was impossible to actually talk to any of their higher up employees. With so many members and yet so little information given to them, I have my doubts on their authenticity._

_I would like you to investigate further into Helping Hands. Their next meeting is this Tuesday night at eight o’clock in room 17B._

_I look forward to hearing what information you gather._

_President Victoria_

Vincent reread the email one more time as he arrived at Westingham's town hall around seven-thirty. He didn't stand out at all. Plain khakis and a nice button down shirt was an easy go-to wardrobe. He also had backpack with him for two reasons: It would make him look like an innocent student from the college wanting to get involved in the community, and he did actually have to go to the library afterwards and write a paper. An entire paper. Due the next morning. While he knew he had to stick around to investigate afterwards, Vincent really hoped that the meeting would be short for the sake of his GPA.

It was still light outside, but the sun was starting to set and cast an ominous shadow across the big, white building seated surely in the middle of historic Westingham. Ornate Corinthian columns stood at the entrance, emphasizing the building's importance. Vincent was early, but not suspiciously so, in order to investigate before the actual meeting took place. To truly get a feel for the organization, however, Vincent would have to talk to some of the other members.

“Excuse me,” Vincent called out to a couple entering the Town Hall at the same time. The man, tall and balding, appeared to be thrilled to be arriving. The wife seemed a little more hesitant, but interested nonetheless. “Are you going to the meeting for Helping Hands?”

“Yes we are!” the man exclaimed. He held out his hand, eager to make acquaintances. “My name is Bill Kelly! This is my wife, Cheryl. What's your name?"

Vincent smiled politely. "Trent."

"Nice to meet you Trent. Is this your first time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s great! You’re bound to love it!” Bill said, and started to walk inside the building. His wife and Vincent followed. “This is Cheryl’s first time too.”

“Bill’s been so happy since he went last week. I have to see what could be so great about this organization,” Cheryl explained. “We’re very active in charity organizations, but this one must be different!”

“It is!” Bill assured his wife. “It _really_ feels like you’re really contributing to society. Everyone is so friendly, too.” The middle aged man turned back to Vincent. "Really, I'm so glad you came."

The three went inside the building. Unlike the outside, the interior was rather minimalist. The lobby was small, with some pictures of the town and the nearby college hanging on the plain white walls. The ceiling had a singular plain chandelier hanging down from it, dimly lighting the space. The clicking of their shoes on the marble floor echoed out in the room. Vincent noticed the security cameras at the front door and made a mental note of it.

He followed the couple past this room to the back hallway, where they took the elevator downstairs where some large social rooms were located. A the end of the hall, room 17B was lit up and one could hear voices coming from it.

“It doesn’t start until eight!” Vincent noted. “A lot of people are here early!”

“Of course! I was just telling Cheryl that you have to come early because that’s when Mama B serves food and drinks,” Bill explained.

“Mama B?”

“One of the Helping Hands employees. She prepares the dinners at the meetings.”

“The dinners?”

The trio entered the room, which appeared to be more of a party than a charity event. Chairs were set up in ten rows of ten, but at the moment everyone was standing up and socializing around the tables of snacks. It was an odd sight to see so many teenagers and adults there from all sorts of walks of life, getting along and talking to everyone – not just their spouse or a close group of friends.

After a while of small talk with the Kelly couple, Vincent noticed a large, elderly woman come out from one of the back doors with a tray of chips and homemade dip. 

“That must be Mama B over there?” Vincent pointed.

Bill nodded. “You should go over introduce yourself to her! She’s so nice.”

“I think I will,” Vincent agreed. “Nice to meet you, Bill!”

“And nice to meet you! I’ll be here! You should try the Kool Aid - it’s amazing.”

Vincent walked over to where the food counters were. Temperance didn’t seem to be much of a concern here. People were flocked around, engulfing everything they could get their hands on. The food did look good. There was a variety of cups on the table, some with stars and some with moons engraved on the side. They must have had the Kool Aid. For a group working to end poverty, they sure had spent a lot on themselves.

The woman who must have been Mama B stood behind the table, making sure none of the plates stayed empty. She was incredibly cheery, making each and every member feel right at home. She wore a pastel blue shirt with a symbol of two holding hands and the charity's name underneath them. Vincent eyed her a moment, wondering what her real role was in everything.

“Hello, sweetie!” Mama B spotted Vincent standing aside and watching. “Here, come on, have some food!”

“Thank you, but I’m so full. I ate before I came,” Vincent said. Right on cue, his stomach growled. He grimaced.

“Don’t be shy, have something!” Mama B insisted. She held up a tray. “At least try it, dear! Growing high school boys like you need to have something!”

 _I’m completely grown and in college, thank you very much._ Vincent almost snapped but held his tongue. He politely turned her down again, but was forced to take the glass that she placed in his hand. “Er, thank you.”

He never got a chance to try anything, because as he walked away into the crowds, somebody bumped into him and he spilled the drink everywhere. 

"I'm so sorry!" the person said, and they truly looked like they meant it. Vincent insisted that it was okay - he didn't like Kool Aid, anyway - but was surprised to see a Helping Hands employee immediately rush over to them, as indicated by her blue shirt. 

"I'll clean this up. It's no problem!" the employee said, smiling. "I'll also get you another drink!"

"No, it's okay," Vincent said, shaking his head. 

"No, really, I insist," the employee said, and presumably left to grab cleaning supplies and another drink. Vincent didn't stick around to get his second glass. The meeting was about to begin, and he wanted to find his seat.

A bell rang out a few times and everyone suddenly hushed and sat down. A man dressed in a suit, who Vincent presumed to be the head of the organization, strode towards the podium at the front of the room. With confidence that filled his entire being, he greeted everyone and gave a standard introduction.

“Welcome, all! I see a lot of familiar faces out there, but for those of you who are here for your first time, my name is Bryant Burke and I am the president of Helping Hands. I am so glad that you’ve taken time out of your busy schedules to come and be good stewards. We’ve been growing so rapidly since we started six months ago, and I hope we can continue to flourish so that others may flourish as well!” Burke continued to talk about local charity events such as soup kitchens and food donation opportunities around the town. It lasted about an hour, with him motioning towards a table with sign-up sheets for volunteering. Vincent found it all rather boring, but he noticed that everyone around him was totally engrossed.

“Lastly,” the president said, “I’ll be passing around this basket where you can put in your donations. It helps fund our charity events. Checks and cash accepted with much gratitude!” Vincent watched as people passed around the basket. By the looks of it, everyone donated a lot.

To fit in, Vincent begrudgingly threw in a dollar of his own, though he couldn’t help but wonder what he had actually just supported. It couldn’t really be for charity, could it? President Victoria had her suspicions for a reason, and it wasn’t as if she was Donald Trump who hated all poor people and charity and goodness.

“Again, thank you everyone for coming! Please stick around afterwards for more food!” Mr. Burke concluded. Everyone clapped and started to migrate towards the snack counters again. These people had major appetites. Vincent stood up as well. He had to go talk to the president. It was just hard to spot him over all those tall heads…

And Burke was gone.

“Excuse me, Bill?” Vincent found his new friend from earlier amongst the crowds. “Where is Mr. Burke? Does he stay afterwards to socialize? I’d like to meet him.”

Bill laughed. His wife Cheryl did too. She looked like she’d been attending for months now. She was entirely at ease. “He never stays around afterwards. He’s got hundreds of obligations; he’s a very busy man. If you’d like to ask a question, however, you can email his secretary. Her name is Alyssa Huff."

"Where do I get her email? There's no website."

"It's on their flyers. But if you want to contact her now, I’ve got the email to give to you.”

“I would,” Vincent smiled. He pulled out his phone and opened the contacts. Bill showed him the email and he typed it in his phone. “Thank you so much.”

Vincent was forced by Bill to socialize more, and by the time he could get away, almost everybody was gone and the food was already put away.

It was almost midnight, so Vincent had to run to the library and write that eight paper on business management quickly. Juggling the missions that Victoria gave him and school usually wasn’t that big of a deal, but with him being in his senior year of college and wanting to graduate on time, he was starting to feel the stress. As he typed away in the library, his mind kept replaying the meeting over and over in his head.

It hadn’t been a normal meeting at all. Firstly, people were actually excited to be at an information session. Secondly, there was the multitude of food, and the food actually looked _good_. For a nonprofit, there was probably too much of the donations going into that. There were also the cups with the suns and moons. What were those about? It seemed a little random. He mentally reminded himself to ask Bill about it next time he went; surely Victoria would want more information on that.

The paper was written in the record time of all night. It was 5am when Vincent finally finished, and he had to trudge back to The Frat HouseTM to get the rest of his materials he needed for his classes: a couple of textbooks, folders, and a Monster energy drink. 

Life was a breeze.

 

* * *

 

“Vincent stumbled in again at five-thirty in the morning,” one of the Kappa Alpha brothers scoffed. Diedrich was walking out of The Frat HouseTM with a delightful young man named Trent, colloquially known as “Trent the AssholeTM.” They both unfortunately had 8am classes. Trent was heading towards chemistry and Diedrich was going to his 4000-level International Business Administration course.

Trent wasn't exaggerating. Diedrich had heard the clatter from his and Vincent’s adjoining bathroom from around that time and he had embarrassingly stared at the door a little too long lost in his own thoughts of Vincent changing in there.

Trent continued his complaining. “I wouldn’t care, but he came into my room first. He must have been too drunk to get into his own on the first try!”

_If you don’t want that, then lock your door, moron!_

The asshole, who maybe had a point that Diedrich just refused to acknowledge, continued. “And then the actual weekend comes and he think he’s too good to go out with the rest of us? Who the hell does he think he is? 'I'm always busy with homework,' my ass.”

Diedrich remembered what Vincent had instructed him to do when situation like that came up. It had been the first night that he came back late at college. People were always out late studying, but the fact that he’d come back so disheveled ruined that theory. So, as a cover-up, Vincent had put his hand on Diedrich’s shoulder and, looking at him intently with those beautiful, deep, deliciously hypnotic chocolatey brown eyes, had asked him to always say…

“That idiot parties too much for his own damn good.”

Vincent’s reputation preceded him, and since he truly did have a lot of connections, he was known to always know where the right parties were. Getting back late didn't help dispute this. Yet somehow Vincent's grades were excellent, never below a B, though Diedrich couldn't remember a time where Vincent cared much about schoolwork except perhaps at the last minute before an assignment was due.

The real truth was, as Diedrich knew, was that Vincent spent way too long out on those inhumane missions that President Victoria sent him off to do. Whatever mission the President sent him to do this time must’ve drained him; to walk into the wrong room, he must have been exhausted. Diedrich wished that he could do something about Vincent’s stress, rather than just try to soothe him with words. Vincent got almost no sleep those days, so it made sense that in the dark, with his tired mind, he’d accidentally open the door next to his. Unfortunately, next door just happened to be salty Trent the asshole’s room.

 

* * *

 

Around seven in the evening of the next day, Vincent arrived at room 069 of Starling Student Center. It was next door to where the fencing club met on the same night, and occasionally one could hear the yells of his sister, Frances. She was only a freshman herself, but she had already showed her dominance amongst her peers and made herself known as a valiant warrior. Nobody wanted to be on her bad side. Vincent meanwhile, was there for Ballroom Dancing.

 _Go to hell, Undertaker,_  Vincent thought bitterly. Having not slept in over twenty-four hours, Vincent felt ready to pass out. The last thing he wanted to do was _dance_.

The teacher was a petite lady with extremely voluminous hair, dyed unnaturally blond and miraculously pulled into a tight bun. She stood at the front of the room by the mirrors. So far, there were thirteen other students, ten of them being girls. Most of them eyed Vincent interestedly, including the boys. Vincent audibly sighed. This was going to be a long hour.

“Hello, my little princes and princesses!” the lady said. She spoke very slowly and quietly. Vincent wished she’d speak faster so the meeting could end early. At this rate, they would be there all night. “Welcome to the first class of…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Ballroom dancing!”

“Woo!” One of the boys cheered.

“That’s the excitement needed!” the teacher nodded. “Ballroom dancing is very exciting!” She almost whispered this statement however, which seemed to undermine its meaning. “My name is Grace Laverne. I’ve been teaching this class for five years at Weston University now!”

“Woo!”

“Yes, that right! Woo!” Ms. Laverne’s “woo” sounded like a soft hoot of an owl. “Firstly, let’s put you into pairs. I’m sorry ladies, most of you will have to be with another girl…” Ms. Laverne proceeded to go around and match up the fourteen students. She took her sweet time.

“You must be Vincent Phantomhive?” Ms. Laverne asked when she finally got to Vincent.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your stepfather told me all about you,” she said with a smile, referring to the Undertaker.

“He’s not my - ” Vincent began to say, envisioning every way in which he could beat up the old freak that evening. Then it hit him: he should act as if he loved the Ballroom dancing. Undertaker obviously signed him up to piss him off, so if he actually enjoyed it – or pretended to do so, at least – that would be the ultimate payback. “I’m glad he did! I’m happy to try something new.”

The instructor beamed. “That's so good to hear! Let's see, I’ll pair you with...ah, you over there! What’s your name?”

“M-me?”

Vincent looked over to the girl at whom Ms. Laverne was addressing. She stood in the corner, unsure of herself and blushing heavily.

“It’s...Ann,” the girl said.

“What a beautiful name!” Ms. Laverne exclaimed. She practically floated over to the girl. “Why don’t you join Mr. Phantomhive over there?”

“Um, o-okay…”

Ann shuffled over. She looked at the floor as she greeted him. Vincent stared at the top of her head a moment, mainly because she was looking down and he couldn’t actually see her face.

“Wow. Your hair’s so red,” he said. He grinned. “That’s so dope.”

The girl suddenly looked up. “Oh...thank you.” She blushed so hard that her cheeks matched her hair color. _Did he just compliment me? On my hair of all things? Is this actually real life where a hot guy complimented my abnormal hair color?_

Once everyone was grouped up, Ms. Laverne stood in the front of the room. She smiled at each of them a moment, then began talking.

“First, we must learn the basic steps of the waltz. I’ll show you!” The woman started to move her body, saying each step as she danced. “Three step natural turn, sprin turn, reverse turn…”

After she did it a few times on her own, she made the class do it too. There were some people that got it pretty easily, such as Vincent, but also others who were not as fortunate. They spent a good thirty minutes on memorizing and perfecting that alone.

Once everyone in the class got the hang of it, Ms. Laverne explained to them what the Quickstep dance was, and how they would perform a basic version of it for their recital in December.

“The Quickstep is a fun dance,” Ms. Laverne said. “A suggested by the name, the songs are generally upbeat and _quick_." Unlike how she spoke. "It’s very advanced but we’ll make it easier for you beginners. This semester, we’ll be dancing to part of a song called ‘Man Wanted’ from Copacabana. Has anybody seen Copacabana?”

“Woo! I have!” The cheerful boy answered but the rest of the students were silent.

Ms. Laverne nodded. “Okay, that’s one! That’s a good start! Well, for the other thirteen of you, I’ll play it for you now so you know what to expect…” She walked over to a shelf where she had her belongings and a boom box. Ms. Laverne inserted a CD and pressed play.

 

_Man wanted_

_One real man wanted_

_One mister rough and tough who'll kiss me til I cry_

 

_Man wanted_

_Tall, dark and tan wanted_

_About this much across and just about yay high_

 

Anne felt her face become even hotter as she pictured none other than her new partner as that “man.” He was awfully attractive…

“We’ll practice the very beginning of the choreography and then I’ll turn the song back on for us to try the first few steps to it!” Mrs. Laverne explained. “Okay! Face your partner at a forty-five degree angle! Now, slow, slow, quick, quick, slow...” Ms. Laverne kept the rhythm steady and demonstrated for her students how the steps appear for those who are acting as the females, and then those who are acting as the males.

Ann and Vincent made a good pair. They kept up with the moves while slipping in a few jokes about the oddity of their teacher to each other. Honestly, Ann was enjoying herself. Vincent was really quite the charming fellow. Handsome, smart, and witty? She couldn’t ask for better. The girl was totally in dreamland as Ms. Laverne turned back on the music.

 

_Extra strength and stamina desired!_

_If you think you've got enough to qualify..._

_I’m waiting!_

 

_Man wanted_

_No Peter Pan wanted_

_These ain't no kiddie toys_

_So boys need not apply!_

 

Vincent had strength and stamina. He was quality. He wasn’t a Peter Pan or a kiddie toy. Ann caught herself blushing by the thought of it and she prayed that he didn’t notice.

Time flew by, because next thing Ann knew, the hour was over.

“Wow, Ann, you’re pretty good,” Vincent said at the end. “I guess that’s why they call it d- _ann-_ cing.” He winked.

Ann felt lightheaded.

Ms. Laverne now spoke. “Good job, class! You are all born naturals! Be here next week at the same time. You'll dance with the same people the rest of the year!”

“Well,” Vincent said, turning back to Ann. “I guess that makes us official partners! See you next week!”

“Yeah, I guess we are officially partners!” Ann said. _Partners – he’d just said the p-word!_ “See you next week!” She watched as Vincent exited the ballroom and stood there a moment, lost in her newest hopes and dreams.

Ann _really_ wanted that man.


	3. Coffee "Date"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry this is late! We've been busy with life and just forgot, but here's an after Christmas update! Feedback is always appreciated!

**_Did you eat my Leibniz-Keks again???_ **

On his way back to The Frat HouseTM from one of his business classes, Vincent read his newest text: an angry accusation from Diedrich.  _ Why does he always blame me? _ Vincent wondered, throwing himself a pity party in his head. Of course, he had been the one to eat Diedrich’s food, but that was irrelevant. Diedrich’s uncle shipped those cookies from Germany all the time; it was no big deal. They were good and free – of course Vincent would take advantage of that!

**_My deerest Dee you have no faith in m_ **

Vincent’s text was cut short when he bumped into someone. His Samsung Galaxy S7 edge (only the best for him of course) dropped and hit the sidewalk with a thud and he saw an iPhone with a pink Otterbox case fall next to him. Ugh, an Otterbox, what kind of uncultured swine would have a case like that?

“ _ Shit _ !”

It wasn’t Vincent who cursed. He looked up at the person in front of him. She was almost a head shorter, and her deep blue eyes looked at him with more shock than apology. Her silky blonde hair was stylishly curled in a way that positively framed her face. Her skin was clear, even with the minimal amount of makeup on. Her pink sundress hugged her figure in the right places. He only could scan her for a few seconds without being creepy, but appreciated it nonetheless.

_ Oh no, the uncultured swine is hot! _

“I mean, sorry,” the girl quickly said. “I wasn’t paying attention!”

Vincent reached down and picked up both phones. “No, no! Don’t worry about it, neither was I.” He handed the hottie hers. “Hope it’s not broken or anything. It took a fall.”

The girl quickly turned on the screen a moment. “It’s fine! I’ve dropped it from much higher and it’s always fine. You’d think it was a Nokia.” She laughed lightheartedly.

_ Oh no, she made a bad phone joke – but her laugh is cute! _

Vincent laughed too. “I’m glad it’s okay! I’m Vincent, by the way.”

“I’m Rachel!” the hottie said. “Nice to meet you. I’ll see you around!”

_ Oh no, he couldn’t let her leave like that! _

“I will - since we’re gonna coffee! My treat for making you drop your phone!” Vincent said, figuring he had nothing to lose. Rachel smiled, amused. That was good, that was very good. And very cute. Damn it.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” she agreed. “Speaking of phones…” Rachel motioned towards his. Vincent eagerly unlocked it and handed it to her. She sent a text message to herself so he’d have her number. It said Rachel Durless. “Just let me know whenever you want to meet up!” She gave him another grin and walked past him. He got a whiff of Victoria’s Secret’s Sexy Little Things Noir perfume. Not that he was an expert on perfumes, or anything.

He added Rachel Durless in his phone as “ _ That Hot Girl I Bumped Into _ ” with the smirking emoji beside it. He was already thinking of how and when he’d officially ask her out.

He couldn’t wait.

* * *

 

Two textbooks. Five notebooks. One venti brewed Pike’s Place Roast, no sugar or cream. Ann was ready to pull an all-nighter. She’d settled herself down at the student center that Friday night and had decided to start preparing preemptively for her Biology 1107 and Chemistry 1112 tests which were the following Monday. She thumbed through the pages of her biology textbook and landed on the chapter about reproduction. It was all hormones, sex, and penis diagrams.

_Vincent…_

Why did her mind have to go back to him?

She took a sip of her coffee. It was terribly bitter, but she was used to it and it was perfect for getting her mind off boys and back to studying. Kind of.

Ann managed to study straight for about an hour, but her head started to hurt and the talking in the background had suddenly gotten louder. She turned around and saw two students in front of the Clubs and Activities bulletin board. They were talking about one in particular.

“This new club Helping Hands seems cool.”  
“They’re giving out free t-shirts and food! We _have_ to go.”

“A free t-shirt? Oh yeah, we’ll be there no matter what!”

The pair walked off. Out of more boredom than curiosity, Ann stood up and walked towards the flyer. She read it.

_Helping Hands_

_“Creating a Happier World”_

_We organize charity events around campus, such as food pantries, clothing drives, and various fundraisers._

_Come for free t-shirts and homemade food!_

_Student meetings every Monday from 7-8pm in Room 666._

_Town Chapter Meetings every Tuesday at 8pm in the Town Hall._

 

It seemed like a nice group. Ann did like helping people – that was one of the reasons she wanted to be a doctor – but with so much homework she had no time for that. However, Ann knew that her sister always needed charity events for her sorority, so she figured that she’d pass the word on via text.

**_Hey, there’s this group you may like to look into…_ **

* * *

 

 

 **V:** **_Hey Rachel, how does Saturday sound for coffee?_ **

**R:** **_Sure! Where and when?_ **

**V:** **_There’s this great place called Two Story on Baxter Street, I’m pretty sure your phone will be able to handle that fall ;) we can meet up at 3?_ **

**R:** **_Sounds good! See you then! :)_ **

“She used the happy face! That’s a good sign!” Alexis Midford had commented. He’d walked in on Vincent alone in The Frat KitchenTM, doing multiple victorious fist pumps, so Vincent had to show him the four text messages as an explanation.

Vincent recommended Two Story because a couple of years before he’d saved the owner, Mr. Elrod, from some big financial trouble. The man had been a victim of a good-for-nothing thug involved in some problematic Internet-based group that virtually stole money from companies, including Elrod's. President Victoria had ordered Vincent to look into that (“Your generation is so good with technology!”) and he’d helped track the leader down and get Mr. Elrod’s money back. The man was now eternally grateful, even though Vincent had really only helped because Victoria had ordered him to do so. Nevertheless, now Vincent could get free coffee whenever he pleased.

Of course, the cover up for Rachel was that he had just worked there one summer in the past and now had great ex-employee benefits.

Rachel was already there when he arrived. She was as pretty as she was the last time he saw her, but now dressed in a casual but nice button up white shirt, skinny jeans, and ankle boots. Vincent couldn’t help but notice how flattering the fit was on her...

“Hi, Vincent!” Rachel smiled and waved at the sight of him. It shouldn’t have caused Vincent to feel so damn happy, but for whatever reason it did. He tried to play it cool, though.

“Hey, Rachel,” he said. “You look nice today.”

He was pretty sure that she blushed. “Thanks. Well, wanna go inside?”

Vincent nodded. As they walked in, he made sure to hold the door open for her. The two made their way to the counter where Mr, Elrod stood. He beamed when he saw Vincent.

“How’s my favorite student?” he asked.

“Great!” Vincent said. He motioned towards his date - this was a date, right? Not that he’d say it first. “This is Rachel. Rachel, this is Mr. Elrod and he owns the shop.”

“Hello Rachel! Well any friend of Vincent is a friend of mine. Order whatever you’d like. It’s on the house,” Mr. Elrod said.

“No, it’s fine, I can pay for it!” Vincent spoke up, trying to be a true gentleman.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mr. Elrod insisted.

“Wow, thank you so much!” Rachel exclaimed.

Rachel ordered an espresso and a Volpi Pepperoni & Tomato Savory Foldover and Vincent got a Shaken Iced Passion Tango Tea. They found a table upstairs that overlooked Main Street and many of the old fashioned shops outside and sat down to converse.

“This is  _ tea _ -licious,” Vincent commented after he took a sip of his drink. The look on Rachel’s face was priceless. “Yours?”

“That was horrible...but - “ Rachel took a sip of hers. “Espresso-ly good.”

Vincent grinned. A girl who could take his puns was a keeper.

Initially, it was all small talk, but pleasant, nonetheless. They discussed how nice the weather was lately, their classes and majors (Rachel was majoring in early childhood education – apparently she loved children), and their favorite TV shows.

“So where are you from?” Rachel eventually asked.

“Around here actually,” Vincent said. “My family has lived in this town for quite a few generations. A lot of them have come to this school, too.”

“So you’re a legacy?”

“That’s right,” Vincent said proudly. “What about you?”

“My family has lived around here for awhile, too,” Rachel explained. “I have a younger sister and she comes to Weston too, actually!”

“So does my sister! She’s a freshman but she’s already well adjusted,” Vincent said. Or more accurately, people adjusted themselves to her. “Does your sister like it here?”

“I think so. I hope so,” Rachel said. “I think she needs to get more involved, though. Studies are important, but college is also all about meeting new people and having new experiences!”

“I’m sure she’ll open up. It may take her a little while, but she’ll come around,” Vincent assured.  He wanted to get away from the topic of family though, before it lead into things like parents and careers. “So, tell me more about yourself? Hobbies, interests, that sort of thing?”

“My favorite pastimes are probably watching American Horror Story and going to haunted houses. And sometimes I enjoy karate, but I don’t do it much.”

“No time?”

“Well, that, but also I physically can’t,” Rachel said. “When I was little, I used to love sports, but as I got older, it got harder and harder for me to actually play them. I have bad asthma, so if I strain myself it usually flares up. I’ve got it under control now for the most part thanks to my inhaler and I know my limits. I just have to keep it in mind if I’m going to do something too active.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m just glad you have it under control,” Vincent said.

“Thanks, me too.” She took a sip of coffee and grinned. “Okay, so earlier when you said you watched Pretty Little Liars ‘because of your sister’…”

The two ended up talking until it was dinner. Both had to get back to the houses if they wanted to catch dinner in time. They said their goodbyes and both agreed to meet up again. It had gone nicely. Vincent changed her contact to “ _ That Hot Girl I Got Coffee With" _ and excitedly went back to The Frat HouseTM to brag to everybody.


	4. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry we died for 4 1/2 months. We're back now!

_Diedrich stood on the front porch of the Kappa Alpha fraternity house, tapping his foot as he impatiently waited for Vincent to come back from his ballroom dance club meeting. It was late at night and Vincent was supposed to have returned awhile ago. It didn’t help Diedrich’s concern that Vincent stupidly forgot his umbrella back at his room.There was a big storm passing through and the rain had just started coming down hard. Diedrich was worried that Vincent could catch a cold out there. The German didn’t feel perfectly healthy himself. He coughed. Really, with his thoughts always so concerned over Vincent, he hadn’t taken much time to care for himself..._

_A sexy silhouette finally appeared in the distance. Diedrich immediately ran towards it, despite feeling way too tired for such intense physical endeavors. He had the opened umbrella ready to hand off. He saw Vincent’s smirking face and, with a cough and a scowl, gave him the open umbrella. He didn’t care that he was now getting drenched himself._

_“Why are you such an idiot, Phantomhive? You could catch a cold in this downpour!” The German barked, not realizing that he himself was swaying. He must have gotten sick from waiting for him so long in the cold rain._

_He fainted and dropped right into Vincent’s arms._

_Whoops._

_In the privacy of his room, Vincent stripped them both of their wet clothing, replacing them with dry pajamas. While dressing Diedrich, Vincent couldn’t help but admire Diedrich’s strong German body. He couldn’t help but stroke it a moment, shivering with excitement from the defined ab muscles._

_When Diedrich woke up, he saw Vincent sitting right next to him staring with concern. Noticing him stir, Vincent smiled gently at the German, a sense of relief showing on his face._

_Vincent reached over towards the nightstand and grabbed a bottle and spoon. He poured some red liquid on the spoon and held it up to Diedrich’s mouth._

_“Take it,” he said, caressing Diedrich’s face. The sun filtered through the window, illuminating Vincent’s angelic features. He looked absolutely immaculate. “It’ll help you feel better.”_

_Diedrich opened his mouth, and Vincent gingerly spoon fed the medicine to him. He watched as the German’s mouth closed around the spoon and sucked the liquid out. He swallowed and gave a slightly disgusted expression, but he didn’t fight it. Vincent patted his strong and sturdy shoulder._

_“Good boy,” he cooed. It was obviously a tease about Diedrich being his loyal German guide dog, but Diedrich secretly found it endearing._

_“I know, Mole,” he scoffed, in a rather raspy voice._

_Diedrich’s stomach rumbled. He tried to stifle it but failed. Vincent laughed. “I’ll cook you some food.”  He stood up, determined to make his friend the best soup of his life._

_Vincent came back thirty minutes later with a hot bowl of Campbell’s soup._

_“Sorry it’s not fresh,” Vincent said. “I wasn’t entirely sure how to make soup, actually…but  it can’t be bad if it’s from a can, right?”_

_Diedrich groaned. “Coming from you, Phantomhive, I wouldn’t count on it.”_

_Vincent fed the soup for Diedrich. Hesitantly, Diedrich took a sip. He grimaced, but perhaps out of his strong hunger, Diedrich kept eating._

_“Can I get you anything else?” Vincent asked, leaning in and looking intently into Diedrich’s eyes._

_“I…” Diedrich started. He stopped and lifted his hand up, gripping Vincent’s arm. “I want to kiss you.”_

_Vincent paused, but then smiled. He leaned down, trailing his fingers down Diedrich’s chest._

_The door burst up. Alexis stood there, concerned._

_“Diedrich, I heard you’re sick, are you - ”_

_He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening at Vincent practically on top of Diedrich._

_“What are you two doing…?”_

* * *

Diedrich woke up with a start. He looked around his room, trying to bring himself to reality. He was at The Frat HouseTM laying in bed, but there was no Vincent on top of him. Diedrich groaned. Why couldn’t he ever seem to get Phantomhive out of his mind? Not even when he was asleep could Vincent leave him alone! And why did every happy dream have to turn into a nightmare?

The German rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. What time was it? 5:20 am. Diedrich didn’t have class for another few hours, but he decided to go ahead and get up. He was scared that if he went back to sleep, he’d end up dreaming about Vincent again.

Generally, Diedrich had a strict, military-like morning routine. Get out of bed. Go to the bathroom. Wash face. Brush teeth. Make bed. Put on outfit of the day. Eat a slice of Mestemacher toast. Go to class. This morning, however, Diedrich needed to change it up. He needed to go for a walk. Get his mind off of Vin - Phantomhive. He couldn’t allow himself to think of the boy by his first name. Oh no.

Needless to say, The Frat HouseTM was dead that early in the morning. Every light was turned off...except for Phantomhive’s. Diedrich saw the light coming out from under his door. What on earth was that boy doing?

It’s probably something for President Victoria, Diedrich mused. Or maybe he’s been so busy with Victoria’s work that he just now had time for his regular studies. Or maybe he was just so exhausted from all his double life duties that he’d managed to pass out with the lights on. Diedrich felt a pang of pity for his Frat BrotherTM. He even debated knocking on the door to check on him, but he didn’t. There was nothing he could do.

But oh how Diedrich wished he could soothe Vincent’s pain with his words...or body.

* * *

When Vincent saw the Helping Hands student meeting sign up in the student center, he was more annoyed than concerned. It was just another obligation for him to deal with while trying to keep his school career afloat. Still, he knew his duty, and he dragged himself to that horrid meeting Monday night.

It was in one of the large social hall rooms on the sixth floor, and it was packed with students. Why would everyone want to come to something like this?

“Hi there,” a cheery student volunteer said at the door. “Thanks for coming! What’s your shirt size?”

“Uh…” Vincent spoke quietly. “ _A small._ ”

“Here you go!” The girl handed him the t-shirt. “It’s all you can eat inside!”

Vincent felt the dopamine automatically rush through him at the prospect of free t-shirt and food. So _that’s_ why everyone wanted to come.

Reminding himself that the free goodies were manipulative mind games, Vincent pushed his way through the hoards of people to get to the food table. The buffet was even larger than the one at the town hall, and it was surrounded by students. Vincent knew better than to eat any of it.

Just like in the Town Hall, Mama B was there doling out trays of fresh food. The cups had stars and moons on them just like before. There had to be some significance in that, right?  

Vincent turned around to investigate the rest of the room, but stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing somebody he knew with a group of girls.

Rachel, his hot hopefully-soon-to-be-girlfriend, was there. Dread filled him and he quickly maneuvered himself to where she was.

“Rachel!” he greeted, suave acting skills turned on. He had a smirk on his lips and a carefree aura to his persona.

The girl turned around, a big smile on her face. She glowed at sight of him, and this made Vincent a little weak.

_Damn, why do you have to be so bright and glowy and cute and - Vincent, no, focus!_

“Vincent! Speak of the devil!” Rachel giggled.  The smirks on the girls’ faces said it all, a knowing expression on their face. It was obvious that she was just telling them about him, and it must’ve been good with the looks they were giving him. This made Vincent feel better about asking her out, but right now he has to focus on the mission.

She turned to the group of girls she was with, introducing them as her sisters from the sorority. They all wore Tri Delta sweatshirts. Vincent tried his best to remember each name, keeping track of who had food and drinks with them and who didn’t. Thankfully, Rachel’s hands were empty.

“Hey Rach, have you had any of the food here?” Vincent asked, sounding curiously innocent.

“Nope,” Rachel responded, popping the ‘p.’ “But it looks decent enough for me to try some later.”

“No need. I bet I can take you to somewhere better to eat afterwards. With the mass quantity of food here, I’m sure it’ll be a hit or miss in terms of taste.” Vincent winked.It was perfect. He had the chance to keep her from eating food by asking her to go out with him again.

“I get what you mean,” Rachel said, a twinkle in her eye. “Where would you like to go?”

“Wherever you would like, I’m very flexible,” he said.

“How about Waffle House?” Rachel caught on to the innuendo, trying to restrain her laugh.

“What’s a Waffle House?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“You’ve never heard of it?” Rachel gasped, in horror. With determination, she said, “We _have_ to go now. Immediately.”

“Okay, it’s a date!”

“Oh, so it’s an official date?”

“If you want it to be,” Vincent smiled charmingly. Rachel laughed at that.

“I’ll be looking forward to our date then, my kind sir,” she mockingly curtsied.

Vincent followed through with her acting. “I’ll meet My Lady in front of the student center when this meeting ends at eight o’clock then. I won’t be bothering you girls any longer.” He full on bowed, like a gentleman, before excusing himself from the group of giggling sorority girls. He had to keep on investigating, but was glad that he got a date out of this investigation. He hoped that once his relationship with Rachel got going (and it would, he sweared it would work out) that she wouldn’t get sucked into his other life.

It wasn’t long before the meeting starting and everyone sat down, facing the front of the room. Mr. Bryant Burke walked out, gave his standard philanthropic speech, and signaled that it was time to take donations. The volunteers handed out baskets to the front rows to be passed back.

Usually, it took an arm and a leg to get college kids to donate anything to anywhere. Most of them - well, with the exception of Vincent and a few wealthy others like Diedrich - considered themselves way too broke. However, Vincent noticed as the basket was passed around, these students were completely emptying their pockets. Vincent glanced over to Rachel to see what she did. In contrast to everyone else, she only gave a couple of dollars, probably out of peer pressure more than anything else.

Like before, the director disappeared after talking before Vincent even had a chance to stand up. He decided that there must be a connection between the people’s enthusiasm and food, however, so he made sure to wrap up a leftover lemon bar from the food table before going to where he would meet Rachel.

After their impromptu date, he’d go to Dr. Jun in the science part of campus to check out the food. That man was one of the few trusted people who knew about Vincent’s watchdog role. In fact, President Victoria had purposely gotten him employed at the university to help out with any investigations. Apart from Dr. Jun, Diedrich, law enforcement, and the Undertaker, nobody knew.

* * *

Feeling high and hard from last night’s date with Rachel (she was one hell of a good kisser, and Waffle House was an interesting place to observe commoners!), Vincent was definitely not in the mood to work on the investigation. Still, he had that lemon bar, and he knew Dr. Jun would have office hours that morning.

Vincent rushed into the chemistry building to find the professor. To his dismay, Trent the AssholeTM was there, as much of an ass as ever.

“Oh, Vincent, you decided to actually show up to class today?” Trent asked condescendingly.

“I do actually go to class, Trent,” Vincent said. “Contrary to what you think, I actually care about my education.”

“Yeah, well your drunk self bursting into my room last week in the middle of the night points to the contrary,” Trent scoffed. “Not to mention your perpetual lying.”

Vincent groaned. “Look Trent, I don’t have time for your shit today. I’ve already apologized! Also, I never lie.”

Vincent left Trent fuming and made his way to the back hallway where all the science professors’ offices were. At the end was that of Dr. Jun’s door. Vincent quickly knocked.

Dr. Jun was furiously typing something on his computer when Vincent entered. He spun around in his rolling chair and upon seeing Vincent, practically glowed.

“Vincent, my boy! How are you?” he asked. He rolled his chair over to where Vincent stood and shook his hand from his seat.

“I’m good, Dr. Jun, you?” Vincent replied. He started to shuffle things around in his backpack for the lemon bar.

“Better than ever,” the doctor said. “I was just working on a new experiment where I thought it would be ingenious to combine potassium nitrate and potassium chlorate with- ”

“That’s wonderful, Professor, but I actually wanted to know if you could help me with something? For Mrs. President?”

Dr. Jun’s eyes widened in understanding. “I see. What’s the case?”

Vincent explained the Helping Hands issue and gave Dr. Jun the lemon bar. The professor put it on his desk and studied it a moment.

“I know it looks normal but could you check if something’s in it?” Vincent asked.

“I’ll work on it right away. That’s why I’m here,” the professor said. “It may take a few days, though. Even up to a week for certain results to come in.”

“That’s fine, I just need it done soon,” Vincent agreed. He thanked the doctor and left.

* * *

 One chore down, one more to go. Now Vincent had to talk to Mr. Dean about the cult. Still, he felt obliged to throw in a bad word about the cult in low hopes to damage their reputation. Most students would have to go through a lot to talk to the dean personally, but being that Vincent had had various encounters with Mr. Dean due to his fraternity, the boy felt comfortable enough to go to the office himself. At least one good thing had come out of that.

Vincent knocked on Mr. Dean’s door and waved at some passersby.  Most of the employees at the student affairs office knew him by name by now, which was a little awkward but the least of his worries. There was a gruff “come in” and Vincent promptly did so. He saw the dean’s face fall slightly at the sight of him, though the man was quick to cover it up.

“Ah, Mr. Phantomhive. You have an appointment?”

“Erm, no, sir.”

“Is there something wrong with your house?”

“Not really, sir.”

“Is this about your stepfather?”

“He’s not my - No, sir.”

Mr. Dean raised an eyebrow at Vincent, who sat himself down in front of the dean’s desk. “Look, this is going to sound crazy, but this is about that new club, Helping Hands.”

“The charity?”

“Yes, sir. They’re no good. What they do and achieve - it’s not normal,” Vincent explained. “The students there are totally engrossed in it, and they give out _way_ too much money for my regular broke college kid peers.”

“Well, some people believe in the importance of benevolence - “

“And I respect and agree with that, but these people, there’s something off about them. The organization has _got_ to be a scam.”

Mr. Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair. He seemed rather disinterested. “Look, Mr. Phantomhive, they had every requirement needed to be allowed as an outside organization hosting an event on the college campus. The students have the right to go to their meetings or not. If it’s a scam, we would need solid proof, and so far all documents they have given us concerning money have been respectable and legal.”

Vincent frowned. “But - “

“No ‘buts,’ Mr. Phantomhive. I don’t see why you’re so invested, anyway. Now please, if you find any valid evidence to this conspiracy of yours, please set up an appointment with me and come back then.”

“But-”

“Have a good day, Mr. Phantomhive,” Mr. Dean concluded. He didn’t particularly sound like he wanted Vincent to have a good day.

Vincent wanted to keep arguing. He wished he could just blurt out “the president told me to do this!” but that wasn’t allowed. He would have to find some more solid evidence before anything could be done.

“Right. I’m sorry. You too,” the boy said, and he walked out of the office.

* * *

That night, Vincent went to his dance class. Surprisingly, he was a little relieved to go because at least ballroom dancing had nothing to do with Helping Hands. That was good because he had to convince the Undertaker that he was actually enjoying it for payback.

Ms. Laverne taught the class some more moves, and they started to put them together. Ten seconds of dance. Fifteen seconds. The time of their strung together dance moves started to add up. It was rather satisfying. As the students practiced, Ms. Laverne floated about the room in her typical manner and corrected them when they needed it. She almost never had to help Vincent or Ann.

“You both are naturals!” she exclaimed, thoroughly impressed by their graceful moves and coordination. Vincent beamed and Ann, as usual, blushed.

“See, we’re the best couple in here!” Vincent said to Ann. With his arms wrapped around her, even if it was for dancing purposes, she felt so weak. He called them a couple. “I’ll totally be celebrating this weekend!”

“I’ll be doing homework.”

“Aww, boring. You should have some fun!”  
Ann gave a small smile. “Now you sound like my sister.”

Vincent laughed lightheartedly. It was a beautiful laugh. “I didn’t know you had a sister, but I agree with her. So, for my sake - and hers - why don’t you come to The Frat PartyTM at my place Saturday night?”

“Your place?”

“Kappa Alpha. You know where that is?”

Ann nodded. “Downtown, in the middle of the Greek Empire.”

Vincent grinned. “Yeah, we call Kappa Alpha the city of Athens.”

“Because...you’re a center of democracy?”

“What? No, it’s because the Greek Empire revolves around us!” Vincent boasted. Ann laughed. It was ridiculous but for some reason, when Vincent said it, it was funny. “But, as you said, I believe that everyone deserves a say. So, are you in or are you in?”

Ann laughed again. Maybe it was more of a giggle. “I’m in!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Vincent says this line: "why don’t you come to a Frat PartyTM at my place Saturday night?" he actually does say "TM" because no one has ever corrected him otherwise.  
> We also died writing this, don't ever take us seriously...


	5. Frenemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! In honor of Vincent's birthday, here's another chapter! Thanks for much for waiting so long in between our updates. We haven't forgotten it, don't worry!

Ann had only seen Frat HousesTM from the outside. Frankly, that was all she had ever wanted to see. But that Vincent boy managed to turn her life upside down, and here she was trying to look cute before heading into one of those animal house’s parties.

Out of all of Ann’s friends, she had nobody to ask to go with her. They wouldn’t approve of her going to this party. They all hated Greek LifeTM . Ann did too, but she didn’t hate Vincent. She’d put aside her feelings for this one night. She dressing cute was for _him_ , not the Frat PartyTM.

The girl gave herself one final look in the mirror before heading out. She’d settled for a plain short-sleeve blouse and jeans. She wore matching flats to boot. It was nothing special or exciting. In fact, she’d worn the same outfit to class a few times. Still, it was the cutest outfit she owned. She’d just have to woo Vincent with her charming personality...she had one of those, right?

The Greek EmpireTMwasn’t a far walk from her dorm, but Ann couldn’t help but feel out of place and incredibly nervous. She wished she was like her sister, who was always so comfortable with anything life threw her way. Rachel’s Tri Delta sorority was only a few houses down on the other side of the street. Ann almost pulled out her phone to text her sister for advice, but she stopped herself from doing so. This was her night - she would get Vincent to love her on her own!

Ann stopped in front of the KA house and took it all in. It was a big, Victorian style establishment, probably occupied by some rich tennant a hundred years prior. She could see all the were lights on - some of them strobe lights - and could hear the music blasting from the inside clearly. The bass was ramped up to the max. It was terrifying. Still, Vincent was inside there somewhere and she was going to talk to him no matter what the cost.

The freshman walked up on the front porch. Should she ring the doorbell? Knock? Just walk straight in? Ann figured for an open party like this, she could walk right inside.  She opened the door and what she saw was a disaster.

The place was packed with crowds of people from age 18 to 20. Many held red solo cups, undoubtedly containing something illegal for their age in them. The boys were primarily dressed in khakis and button downs, but the girls had no common theme in their clothes except for the fact that they were all revealing. There were girls balancing themselves in six inch stilettos and shiny dresses with cut outs and fabrics that barely covered their chest or butt. Their makeup was on point, if not a little obsessive, and their hair was done to perfection. Ann looked down at her own outfit and felt the desire to change immediately.

She warily entered. There were tables full of food and drinks and various people were crowded about that, filling their plates. Others were on the couches, watching TV or making out. Some people were in corners smoking things that probably had more than just nicotine. The music was deafening and the whole place had a disgusting stench to it. Ann was repulsed. How did people find this fun?

It was time to focus on more important things. Ann was on a mission, after all. Where was Vincent? She went into the living room where the DJ - yes, an actual DJ - was playing music. Many people were dancing to it - in a sloppy and overly raunchy fashion, if you asked Ann - and generally with a partner. Ann scanned the pairs…

Her eyes stopped. She saw him. He looked magnificent. He was clearly at ease with the environment and having a blast. He at least appeared much happier than she’d ever seen him at the ballroom dancing class. He was laughing. It was cute.

Then she saw the locks of blonde hair. He was with some girl, and she looked really pretty with her curls flowing down her back.

The girl threw her head back, laughing along with him, but Ann couldn’t tell who it was. Right when the mysterious girl was turning, the crowd shifted, blocking her view of the pair. _Are they a couple? Is Vincent actually dating someone? Maybe I’m overthinking this. They might just be friends._

Her head spinning with unanswered questions, she found her way to the nearest door to slipped away from the pulsing beat from the DJ and crowd.

That door happened to lead to the kitchen. The music was drowned out a little. A few people were there, of course, but it was considerably less overwhelming. She leaned against the refrigerator, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself down.

“Excuse me, Red, can you move a moment?”

Ann looked over to the source of the voice. A tall, dark haired boy was looking between her and the fridge. He looked a little angry, but she couldn’t tell if he actually was or if that was just his face.

“Oh, s-sorry,” Ann stuttered. She stared at the ground and stepped to the side. The boy opened the fridge and pulled out a green bottle of…

“Fucking Hell?” Ann asked, and then blushed. “I mean, that’s what the bottle says!”

“ _Ja_. It’s a German beer. ”

“And they can get away with naming it that?”

“Fucking is a town in Austria. Hell is the German word for pale,” the boy explained. He shrugged. “It’s a play on words.”

“Oh,” Ann said, giving a small laugh. She thought of the puns Vincent liked to make.

The boy pulled out a bottle opener from his pocket. “Importing foreign beer costs more for me, but what they serve in this country is horrible.A disgrace to alcohol. The tariffs are worth it.”

“Are you from Austria? Or Germany?”

“My family is German, _ja_.”

“Oh,” Ann said again, watching the Foreign Frat BoyTM take a swig of the drink.

“Always refreshing.” He gave a smug smile. “This isn’t my first tonight.”

“Hmm.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay? You seem quiet.”

Ann felt her face start to turn completely red. She wished she could control that better. “Oh, yeah! I’m fine! I’m completely fine!” She realized how fake that sounded and blushed even harder. “I mean, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

The boy studied her a moment. He gestured to his bottle. “You want one?”

Ann shook her head. “No, I don’t do that. I don’t drink, I mean. It’s fine. Really.”

“There’s soda in there too,” the German said. He opened the fridge one more time and handed her a bottle of Sprite. Ann took it graciously.

“If you don’t drink, why’d you come?” the boy asked, half joking. “You know someone?”

“Er, yeah. Kind of. They’re um, busy right now, though.”

“Who is it?”

Ann hesitated. “Do you know Vincent Phantomhive? He’s in a dance class with me.”

The look on the German’s face was hard to read, but it was apparent that he knew Vincent. To Ann’s surprise, he asked, “He’s with a girl out there, isn’t he?”

Ann blinked. “Yeah, he is.”

“Blonde?”

“That’s it!”

The boy leaned back against the counter. He took another long sip of Fucking Hell. And then another. And a third one. Ann looked down at her Sprite can.

“I’ve heard Vincent talk about her all the time lately. It might be the new _friend_ he made.” The boy emphasized the word “friend” with disgust, before rolling his eyes.

“So they’re dating?”

“Take one more look at them and tell me,” the boy said, a little begrudgingly. After another swig of Fucking Hell, the boy added, “The boy’s so perfect he could literally woo whoever the hell he wants with no problem! Who wouldn’t fall for him?”

Ann was curious. _Was this German gay? Would she really have to compete with him for Vincent’s love and affection?_ No, there was still hope. There had to be. Maybe this guy could actually be used to her advantage….

“I’m Ann, by the way,” the girl said. She wanted to be friends with this German. If he knew Vincent then surely he’d be good to have around. Besides, she appreciated his disdain for the girl that Vincent was dancing with.

“Diedrich,” the German said. He finished his bottle and tossed it aside. He proceeded to peer out the kitchen door. Ann saw that Diedrich’s gaze was on Vincent. “Look at the way he moves...too damn perfect.”

“I know.” Ann sighed, enjoying the show that Vincent was unknowingly providing. Or maybe he did know that people were staring. They always seemed to do so. In her trance, she added, “ _Dat ass._ ”

A pause.

“I know, right?”

The kitchen was starting to get more crowded and Ann realized that peering out the door to stare at Vincent’s behind might start to grab attention. Diedrich, in his dulled state of mind, didn’t seem to put this together and she eventually had to pull him away.

There was nothing else Ann could do tonight, so she decided it was time to go. She said goodbye to her new German acquaintance and left.

* * *

The following Monday, Phantomhive and Diedrich were walking back to The Frat HouseTM from a business class they shared together. Vincent had convinced Diedrich to take one with him so they could “study together,” but it had turned into Diedrich doing half of Phantomhive’s homework for him. Of course, given Phantomhive’s busy life, it was understandable, but doing calculations for determining equity twice wasn’t exactly fun.

“Are you going to study for the test this Friday?” Vincent asked.

“Of course I’m going to study, Phantomhive! It’s twenty multiple choice problems, ten short answer questions, and five calculations! There is no way to pass it without studying. Aren’t you?”

“Eh. Maybe.”

Suddenly, Vincent’s attention shifted to a girl walking towards them. He waved casually. She smiled and waved back.

“Hi Vincent! Hey Diedrich!”

“Hey, Ann!” Vincent said, stopping his stride momentarily. Diedrich hovered beside him. How did this girl know his name? “You know good ol’ Dee here?”

“Oh yeah, we met at the party this weekend!” Ann said. She gave Diedrich a funny look, like they shared some sort of inside joke.

Diedrich strained his memory for clues. Ann, why was that familiar? Ann from the party Saturday? He didn’t remember much from the party Saturday…

The girl pushed some of her red hair behind her ear.

Red hair.

Red.

That’s it!

“Yeah, she said she knew you from ballroom dancing,” Diedrich said, relieved that he remembered who she was now. But then he got a weird feeling in his stomach. He remembered being particularly salty over Vincent and Rachel’s relationship. Just how much did he let on...?

“Oh, cool! I’m glad you came, Ann. Hope you had fun!” Vincent smiled. He checked his Rolex watch for the time, “I gotta go, see you guys around!”

After Vincent’s abrupt departure, Diedrich and Ann were left alone together. They awkwardly looked at each other before Diedrich spoke up.

“What did we talk about at the party?”

Ann’s face turned about as red as her hair. Diedrich felt his stomach drop. He probably did something to her or told her his deepest darkest secret.

“Oh, well, uh…” Ann wasn’t sure where to begin. She had the feeling that what he’d confided in her had been more than private. If it had been any other topic, she would have pretended to have forgotten. However, being that it was about Vincent, she did want to bring it up, even if it was horribly awkward… “Vincent. We talked about him. And that girl.”

“What did I say about them?”

The girl’s face kept turning darker shades of red. “You, uh, kinda admitted your feelings for Vincent...” she trailed off.

Diedrich wanted the ground to swallow him up. He was always such a careful person, except when it came to alcohol.

Feeling himself flush a color that matched Ann’s, all he could manage to say was a quiet _fuck_.

Ann chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “It’s okay. I can’t blame you there…”

Business-oriented mind already preparing for the worst, Diedrich said, “I know I can’t make you forget what I said, but _please_ don’t tell anyone.”

Ann shook her head. “Oh, of course not! Wouldn’t dream of it!” And she wouldn’t - she didn’t want people to spread false rumors about the two boys.

“Good. Thank you,” Diedrich said.

“Hey, uh, I have to go to class, but, can you text me Vincent’s number?” Ann asked, and seeing the look on Diedrich’s face, quickly added, “I need it for dance club.”

Diedrich gave his phone to Ann so she could text herself. Once she gave him back his phone, he went through his contacts to send her Vincent’s number.

“Thanks, Diedrich!” Ann said. She said goodbye and rushed off to her class.

**Author's Note:**

> We hoped you enjoyed this AU so far! Leave comments and critique as it will be helpful to us in the future chapters!  
> Also, be sure to check out our [tumblr](http://www.vincentphantomsex.tumblr.com)!  
> And yell at us at [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/hotdaddyvincent) about this fic and its (lack of) updates.


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